Outlaws and Rebels
by AlQaholic
Summary: The Deadlock gang fails to catch McCree following the fiasco on Route 66. Ashe decides to go after him herself. Little did she know what would happen when she did. ***takes place after the "Reunion" animated short***


For as far as the eye could see, the great landscape had been strewn together with vast stretches of dry desert dirt and reddened stone cliffs in between. Out here in these parts, the winds of the Southwest were heavy and bogged down with heat; they came and went as they pleased, blowing slow and to the same tune they always did. There wasn't much besides cactus and shrubs that made a living out here, and depending on who you were, that was either a good thing or a bad thing. For most it was bad and would've served as a deterrent, but for one cowboy, it was all the more reason to for him to stick around and lay low in the emptiness of it all. That cowboy was none other than the infamous Jesse McCree...

_O__utlaw._

McCree chuckled. Or at least that's what he used to be until Reyes found him. Not anymore though. These days, he saw it fit to be a forward-thinking kind of man. He tried not to live in the past too often even though it usually came back to bite him in the ass and quite painfully too like it had earlier today. The feeling wasn't always entirely unpleasant though. He enjoyed the excitement from time to time, the rush of blood, bullets whizzing by his head, getting a taste of what used to be, but he would be lying if he said he did all this and wasn't riding by the seat of his pants. His old gang was fairly pissed at him. He'd cut it so close today that the bruisers had nearly caught up and torn him a new one. But they didn't, of course, and now he was on his way to freedom. Glancing back, the corners of McCrees mouth widened into that clever, shit-eating grin he always seemed to make when he got away. Looks like he'd lost em' for good.

McCree turned his attention the scenery. Daunting beauty, it was. Riding out here was just what he needed. The rosy summer rays caressing the side of his face were like a warm hand against his cheek. He rode alone against the background of a vivid, setting sun, kicking up large plumes of dust behind him as his motorcycle, a deep crimson color, chugged happily along. Twisting the throttle, he could hear it loud and clear, the sound of the engine that carried him roaring past the silence of the desert's ancient rocks. Music to his ears. Hanging just above the horizon, the sun was causing one side of the bike to cast a long shadow out onto the road while the other was lit up in a soft glow by the light, clearly illuminating an emblem containing a skull with angel's wings. _Deadlock Rebels,_ it said, one word on the top and the other on the bottom.

McCree smiled a cowboy's smile, his poncho waving wildly in the wind. This was pure freedom in every sense of the word. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed this feeling, being on the road all by himself, but he knew he'd missed it a lot. The roar of the engine. The wind in his face. The feeling of his motorcycle rumbling in his hands and tearing up the very fabric of the desert. Everything. However, as great as all that was, he hadn't been heading all the way into the desert just to enjoy the ride and sightsee. No, he had come out here for a reason. After losing the heat from Deadlock gang, McCree did need a place to stay after all, but no ordinary joint would suffice for someone in his situation. In most places, there were simply too many prying eyes and potential bribes that could compromise him, but in these parts, that obviously wasn't a problem. He had a particular destination in mind, too, and it was one that held a long history for him. The memories associated with it weren't exactly the most pleasant, but McCree was practical man, and he wasn't going to let that get in the way of him having some undisturbed rest.

Although McCree knew where he was going, the trip his family's ranch was feeling longer than usual, perhaps because he wasn't used to it anymore. Eventually, though, he did catch sight of what he was looking for, and by then, the sun was just beginning to dip behind the horizon. There, just up ahead beside the dirt path he was riding on, sat a strange sight amongst all the rocks, shrubs, and cactus that existed. It was a run down homestead, one that had been all but abandoned in the lonesomeness of the desert.

McCree pulled up to the property, coming to a stop just in front of the residence. He took in the view, his first in a long time. No one had lived here for years. It was quaint little place that reminded him of a ghost town but in much better shape than the comparison would suggest. Though it'd been his inheritance ever since his parents had died, McCree always shied away from maintaining the place—bad memories and old sins he supposed—not that he had the money to take care of things anyway. His lack of maintenance meant everything had fallen into some slight disrepair. Years of neglect resulted in dust and debris being blown freely all over the porch, some of it piling up in the cracks and crevices of the floorboards. Although it was a little beat up, his former home was holding up well—out here in the desert there were no vines, tree roots, nor moss to help nature hastily reclaim what was once its own. It ought to do him just fine for tonight.

Stepping off the motorcycle, McCree could feel an almighty weariness leeching through his bones as he stretched his heavy limbs. He pocketed the key to his ride. He was about to head on in and get reacquainted with things when then something in the back of his mind called his attention. He suddenly felt like he had forgotten something. Glancing back at the motorcycle, McCree's eyes fell upon the worn out and torn picture of him and a white-haired woman taped to the bottom of the speedometer. McCree's brows furrowed. He was strangely transfixed for a moment. He focused on the woman in the scene. The photograph was in tatters but that only seemed to intesify the wistful emotions it evoked.

_Ashe..._

The name brought a vague longing to McCree's heart. Shaking his head, he snorted and managed snap out of his transfixion. He didn't know why, but he now felt like he needed to keep the picture. McCree glanced back at the house, wanting to go in already. As much as it annoyed him to admit, something kept nagging and scratching at his consciousness to take it, so, like any smart person handling old and delicate things, he gingerly undid the tape and carefully extracted the photograph from where it had long been framed on the speedometer. With a thoughtful sigh, he stole one last look from the image before stuffing it inexplicably into his back pocket.

There... He actually did it.

God knows what use he had for this photograph at this point in his life, but the cowboy was compelled to leave it in his pocket by some distant force. Seemingly satisifed now, McCree figured he ought to call it a day early even though the sun was still up. Tired from running for most of the evening, he stumbled up onto the creaky porch steps and into the house, the old screen door closing behind him upon its rusty hinges. The musty aroma of dust and cobwebs rushing past his person to escape was what welcomed him back.

McCree let out a short laugh. "That smell... Home sweet home..."

McCree kicked the dust off his boots. The house had plenty of it already so he didn't really care as much as he knew he should've. It was his house after all, and it didn't seem so bad without Ma and Pa around to tell him what to do. In fact, had McCree not have lived in this house before, it would've seemed like an entirely normal home to him, if a bit dilapidated and empty of life. That was just how he liked it. Though he had some history in this place, he didn't plan on staying awake long enough to take any trips down memory lane.

With heavy-lidded eyes, McCree promptly set his some liquor he'd brought along for the morning down on the table in the living room. He wasn't going to bother with finding a bed, he was too tired for that, so instead of walking around the house, the man simply brushed some dust off the nearby sofa and plopped right on top, much to his pleasure. Laying his head back, McCree exhaled in deep weariness. He gazed out the far window. The sunset's gentle radiance was glowing softly through the glass and into the shadowed house, illuminating his sprawled form. The dim lighting did well to soothe him. When he had taken his fill of the view, McCree kicked his feet up, got comfortable on the cushions, tucked his hat over his eyes, and shut his lids closed for the night. He was well-hidden from danger all the way out here, so he had no problem slipping into the comforts of slumber.

The cowboy slept soundly for a short while, but for how long he didn't know. All he knew for sure was that when he opened his eyes again, it was to the unmistakable sound of a engine roaring far out on the desert road. Groaning, McCree writhed on the sofa and blinked mindlessly at the ceiling. Rolling his head to the side, he realized the level of sunlight in the room hadn't changed much since he last saw it, if at all. He was certain he had only been asleep for a couple minutes at most. As he lingered there on the sofa, the sound of the distant engine grew closer, and as it did, McCree's ears payed more attention to it. Was he hallucinating? Who the hell could be riding all the way out here at this time of day? McCree rubbed his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep, but then his brows furrowed and he widened confusion and alarm. He recognized this sound. It wasn't the sound of a truck, or a car, or anything else he had wished it was. No, it was the harrowing sound of a motorcycle blazing its way in his direction at mach speed.

That sound could mean only one thing.

_Trouble..._

The rapid approach of the raging motorcycle spurred McCree to his feet. His groggy state had caused him to realize far too late what was going on. He figured only had a few seconds to act before the motorcycle was on top of his location. Well, it was far too late for him to run outside and get away now so he figured he was just going to have to do this the hard way. He didn't see any reason to rush. McCree pulled up his pants and fixed his hat for proper presentation. Glancing down at his hip, he was relieved to see his revolver still seated neatly in its holster. 6 bullets, as always. He made it a habit to keep the gun loaded for every potential occasion, especially one's such as this, but checked the chamber anyway just in case. By the time he'd done all that, whoever was closing in on him had already pulled up to the homestead.

Throwing open the door to the manor, McCree burst out onto the porch just as a woman with white hair was shutting off her motorcycle. He'd come outside expecting to confront a whole goddamn army, guns blazing and everything, but was a little shocked when he saw that it was just her who had pulled up to the residence. She wore a wide-brimmed hat that covered her face, but McCree didn't need to see what she looked like to know who she was. The outfit gave it all away instantly. Still wary, McCree scanned the area for any other Deadlock members, but there was nobody to be seen for miles. It really was just them. Surprised, he returned his attention to his single, but most unwelcome guest.

The woman's knuckles had turned a blanche white from the way she'd been gripping the handlebars so tightly. The ride here had not been a pleasant one for her as it'd left plenty of time for let the days events sink in. Her displeasure was even greater now that she knew the gang had failed to catch him. As her mother used to say, if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. Looking up from the ground, she revealed her gaze from under her hat. Even from where he was standing, McCree could see the way her eyes simmered with an intense loathing. It was almost palpable.

"McCree..." the woman growled, stepping onto the dirt. She removed her rifle from the harness wrapped around her back. Quick with his eyes, McCree saw it, and gripped his pistol without thinking. From the look on her face, he half-expected her to just point the rifle at him and shoot him right there from the get-go. He was prepared for that, but against his predictions, she decided to shoulder the weapon instead. That was a surprise. It seems, as fate would have it, that things were already turning out better for him than he was hoping.

McCree relaxed and released his hold on the Peacekeeper, though instincts ensured his good hand lingered close by should he need it at a moment's notice. Although his guest wasn't aiming her weapon at him, nor having several others here to do that for her, he was still uncertain as to her intentions. That, and the only thing had to go off of was the harsh look on her face she was giving him.

"Well, look who it is," McCree said. "Funny seeing you again so soon, Ashe. Had a feeling those handties wouldn't keep you busy for long. Come back for more?"

Ashe scowled. "That's real hilarious. You should be a comedian," she said, hollow and unamused. She recalled being bound by rope as McCree blew past her on her own bike. She'd been seething the whole way here. She sauntered closer to where the cowboy stood clutching his belt at the top of the porch steps. Her eyes narrowed on his revolver and the accompanying hand at his waist. As discreet as he was trying to be, his body language was as clear as day to a gunslinger like her. She glared at the man. "I'm sure you've noticed that I came here alone, but don't even think about pulling out that gun, McCree. We both know I'm the quicker draw."

McCree smirked. "That was a long time ago, Ashe. Times change."

"Hmm. They do, don't they?" Ashe spat venomously. "Last place I'd ever expected you to be was your parent's ranch."

McCree felt a dark chill overtake his heart. Those words had his name written all over them, clear as day. She still held a grudge against him for leaving the gang all those years ago. He could sense it in his bones, a deep, unsettling feeling. He was the only one who had ever gotten away with leaving. She seemed to consider it betrayal.

"What can I say?" McCree postured, "I got some memories here. But as for you and I, I'm guessing this isn't a social visit. I s'pose you're here for your bike then?"

"Read my mind..." Ashe drawled. "Now, hurry up and give me the key before my trigger finger gets restless."

"All right, I don't want any trouble, so if it means we don't end up shooting each other, I will. But on one condition..." McCree said, raising his finger and then pointing, "You can have your bike as long as you give me the key to that other one over there. Getting stuck all the way out here isn't really part of my plans."

"Fair enough..." Ashe said like she wanted the circumstances to be worse for him. "Get em' out for me then. Nice 'n slow like," she advised.

The pocket containing the key to Ashe's bike just so happened to be right next to McCree's revolver. _Just perfect, _he thought. No sudden movements lest she get the wrong idea. Not wanting to start another shootout, McCree carefully reached into his pants and retrieved the item for Ashe all while she was watching him like a snake poised to strike. He dangled the key out in front him for her to relax before tossing them over, and she smoothly caught them with her free hand.

"Okay, you got what you want. Now give me yours." McCree said.

Ashe gave him a black stare, hestitating for a moment, but reluctantly did as they'd agreed. Nearly ever part of her wanted to ride off into the distance right now and leave him out here to starve, but when it came to her word, she was someone who kept it, unlike him. She retrieved the keys to the other bike from her pocket, but instead of tossing them to the man, she carelessly threw them into the dirt for him to pick up.

McCree frowned. "Aw, c'mon, darlin'. That wasn't very nice."

"That's a bit rich coming from you," Ashe snarled back. "And I'm not your darlin'. You'd best remember that if you value your life."

"Easy... I'm just tryin' to be friendly," McCree assured her.

Ashe scoffed in disgust, and McCree sighed, shaking his head. He'd be damned if she ever showed him some respect these days. It was probably better for his own safety if he didn't piss her off any more than she already was. Listening to his better judgement, he remained quiet as Ashe holstered her weapon and reunited with her bike. Guess that concludes business then.

Ashe snorted. She didn't want to stay here any longer than she had to with this man. Her bike was looking awfully enticing now that she finally had it back in her hands again. She was just about to put the key in and start the engine, but she stopped when she felt that something was amiss. She narrowed her eyes, mulling over what it could be, but then they quickly widened into shock as realization flickered across her face.

Ashe tore her gaze from the bike and aimed it harrowingly at McCree who was already heading through the front door and back into the house. "McCree!" she yelled furiously.

The cowboy froze inbetween the doorframe like the devil himself had just commanded him. If it wasn't for the tone in Ashe's voice, the sound of her foreboding footsteps would've told McCree that something was very, seriously wrong. He almost didn't want to turn back and look, but he couldn't help himself, and when he did turn around, she was already storming up the steps to confront him with a hellish fire in her eyes. The expression on his face found itself twisting into apprehension. If looks could kill, he was sure he would've been dead in that moment, no gun required.

"You damn hick! Where is it?!" Ashe demanded, getting up in his face.

Tentative, McCree rested both his hands nervously on his belt. "Where's what?" he chuckled.

"Don't play games with me, McCree! I ain't leaving until I get back what's mine. You've got something that doesn't belong to you, and you sure as hell know exactly what it is!"

"You know, it ain't very polite to be yelling at me like that. How about you ask me nicely first," McCree goaded.

Ashe clenched her jaw. Every part of him was beginning to get on her nerves! She glared at him and McCree's next thought was cut short as she encroached even further on his personal space, more than he actually thought was possible, stepping into the house and forcing the man to make a hasty retreat deeper into the safety of the room. There would be no safety for him, however, because it seemed to be tactical move. As soon as they were both inside, Ashe slammed the door behind her closed with an ominous shut so horrifying that McCree had almost shriveled up at the sound of it. Shockwaves went up his spine. Certainly this would not bode well for him.

McCree's eyes were flooding with alarm. "Hey, what are you shutting the door for?!" he said anxiously.

"Like I said, I'm gonna stay here until you give it to me. Now, cough it up." Ashe ordered darkly. She was already in his face again and she looked like she was about to do something terrible to him.

"Look, I already gave you your bike, what more do you want?"

"I'm not stupid, McCree. I want what you stole from me!"

"You're gonna have to be more specific," McCree said.

Ashe growled in frustration. He was annoying. He was so annoying that she wanted to punch that stupid look of uncertainty right off his goddamn face. It was faker than anything. Seething at his words, she grabbed McCree by his poncho and pushed him against the wall. She stared at him with daggers in her eyes. For a brief moment, her expression harbored a touch of grief on its edges, fleeting, like the wind, but it had still been there. They both exchanged a tense gaze before Ashe's grip on his poncho relaxed and she let go, the anger draining from her face somewhat as she leaned back and gave him some breathing room.

"I thought you said you were done living in the past, Jesse," Ashe said in a low, pensive voice. She seemed less angry now, quieter, though the nostalgia was painfully obvious.

"Oh, I get it. Is that what this is about? Don't tell me you're all worked up because I took down that little picture you had of us from back then?" McCree scoffed and tried to play down his own actions. "Didn't know you cared so much."

"How dare you!" Ashe shot back viciously. She jammed an accusing finger into McCree's chest and looked him right in the eye. "You know, there was once a time when you were like family to me. But now? What are you now besides a traitor? I wish I had been there to see you take it down. As a matter of fact, I don't even want it back anymore. Just tell me why!"

Ashe cast him a harsh gaze in await of his answer. The air around them hung heavy with tension so taut it could tear a lasso right in half.

"Ashe..." was the only word McCree managed to get out of his system. It was her name. A beautiful name. He was somewhere else right now. He glanced down at her cherry red lips before meeting her eyes again—red like rubies, red like the heart, red like passion, and fire, and evil, and all the things that drove him to the brink of control—they were even more mesmerizing now than ever before, if filled with animosity at the moment. His pride had prevented him from revealing the true reason he had taken the picture. Averting his gaze to the floor, he drew in a deep breath and prepared himself for what was next. Her tantalizing scent, thick and redolent with the sweet smell of a bouqet of roses, was making his blood burn and itch for the feeling of her porcelain skin against his. He needed her. And he needed her now.

McCree raised his head and locked eyes with the subject of his desire, his eyes going dark and hungry. Undeterred, Ashe felt compelled to respond this affront.

"Well, what's it gonna be, McCree?" Ashe said, warning him, "Are you gonna say it or n-"

Ashe's eyes widened as McCree wrapped his arm smoothly around her waist and roughly yanked them together. She was cut short when he silenced her lips with an ardent kiss, harsh yet compromising in all the right ways. Ashe didn't know how to respond, and for a brief moment, she didn't, remaining there, eyes open, lips frozen, and with no clue in the world to help her navigate this situation. She was blind and lost like a young girl in the dark. Eventually, though, she managed to find her way and her welled up response rose to the surface amongst a sea of repressed feelings. McCree could feel Ashe slowly relax into the motions of the kiss as it set her heart afire. Her lips were softer than he'd ever imagined, and they complemented his own, pushing and pulling like the tide, electrifying him with every movement. But he needed more. He dug his hand greedily into the small of her back, exploring here and there, while the thumb of his other traced a delicate line across her cheek and recorded every elegant feature it could find. Every touch stroked the flames of that warm, fuzzy feeling permeating throughout his body. Throughout her body. The kiss was more than deep. It lasted what seemed like a long while, whirling sensations drowning out everything else, enveloping their minds in fireworks, but then they finally drifted apart, feeling the warm breath of their partner on each other's skin as they took in some much needed air. Neither of them had wanted to pull away, but eventually it was Ashe who did. She was beginning to crumble under the kiss and she couldn't take it any longer.

Ashe almost couldn't believe what had happened. Her cheeks were burning and now colored a rosy red. For the first time in her life, someone had reciprocated her feelings and also just kissed her. Made her feel special and like she was worth a damn to somebody in this world. But it was an old spark from her past, and of all people, it was the one and only Jesse McCree. She didn't know how to feel about that. Was that a good thing? Her gaze fell to the corner of the room in anguish and confusion. His lips had tasted like cigars and liquor. The robust flavor was already fleeting from her own, but it reminded her of the good old days. Something that was never easy to remember.

"Jesse, you stupid fool..." Ashe muttered, her brow creasing in dismay. She clutched one of her arms in the other like she was cold. All she wanted to do right now was shrivel up and disappear. "Just what in the hell are you thinking doing something like that?"

"Been wanting to do that for a long time, Ashe. Just never got the chance..." McCree admitted. He let out a short chuckle and smiled warmly at her. "Guess I should've done it sooner by the look of things."

Ashe shied away from his gaze. "Country boys... You're an idiot, you know that."

"I know..." McCree said.

He didn't say anything else as he proceeded to open her hand and place a tattered but familiar piece of small paper into her palm and close it. She didn't need to look down to recognize what it was. Touch alone told her all she needed to know, and it was enough to send a single tear streaking down her face. She still couldn't look at him.

"For what its worth, I wanted to keep it. I just couldn't figure out a way to tell you."

"What did you want it for?" Ashe said, staring out the window.

"Well, I s'pose it was for old times' sake," McCree said. "Gotta have a picture of my best girl."

Ashe's heart nearly skipped a beat. She could feel herself flush with emotion when he spoke. "Is that right...?" she said, turning and meeting his eyes. She closed the distance between them and gave him a lewd smirk. "I'm afraid you've been gone for too long, McCree. We're gonna have to make up for lost time," she murmured.

McCree returned her smirk.

Ashe was the one who initiated the kiss. She leaned in first, and when their lips met once more, her knee was already brushing impatiently between his inner thighs.

The rest of the evening was spent experiencing each other's bodies in ways they never had before, a relief they'd both desperately needed and one that was long overdue. They savoured every minute of the act. There was no time to think about the reprecussions of their actions, only what had been and what could be now. Neither of them could contain the other. It was like the world had flipped upside down. Ashe had finally found a connection to another human soul, one that she never thought she'd get to experience, and McCree had mended the relationship he'd always wanted back in his life. They continued—rash, fierce, and emboldened by old regrets—until the sun had set memoriously upon their two grateful spirits. Slowly but surely though, their energy withered until both of them were completely spent, so exhausted and pacified that all either of them could do was sprawl out into a langourous embrace and relax as the prospects of slumber weighed down heavily like warm sheets on a cold Christmas day.

They retired to one of the rooms. It'd been a long and confusing couple of hours, and Ashe sighed as she snuggled up next to McCree. He wrapped his protective arm around her, letting himself sink into a well-deserved pillow while she nestled her head comfortably on his chest.

Tracing circles on McCree's body, Ashe listened to the thrum of his heartbeat. She blew a long and resigned breath before deciding to speak up. "I don't want the night to end..." she whispered.

"It doesn't have to..." McCree replied.

"Come back to Deadlock..." Ashe said softly, "Come home with me..."

McCree bit his tongue. They had rectified the past and now they had to deal with the future. He was hesitant to answer even though he knew what he had to say, and he found himself staring at the ceiling in search of a response. It hurt him to realize that he couldn't come up with a better one no matter how hard he tried in that sliver of time far too short.

"Ashe, you know I can't do that. I ain't cut out to be that kind of man anymore."

"Mmmm..." Ashe grumbled in dissatisfaction. "I figured you'd say something like that... But it was worth a try."

With those words, the their conversation fell into a short lapse of silence. The night air whistled against the window, occupying their ears in the meanwhile.

"I think you should know something," McCree said, breaking the lapse. "I got a call from Overwatch not too long ago. They're gettin' the crew back together."

Ashe's ears perked up. She hadn't heard anything about Overwatch in a long time. "Really? And they want you back, I'm guessing?"

"Yep... Don't know if I should go though."

"But you probably will anyway," Ashe plainly replied. "You've always been a bit of boy scout ever since you left the gang. This is like the perfect opportunity for you."

"Boy scout?" McCree laughed. "What makes you say that?"

"I read the news, Jesse," she said dryly.

McCree scratched his beard in contemplation. "Overwatch ain't that bad. Maybe I will go... I can't return to the gang, Ashe, but would you join me if I went with them?"

Ashe paused to consider him, tapping her finger thoughtfully on McCree's chest. "Is that a serious question?"

McCree grinned. "You know, you should try playing the hero sometimes. I think it'd be a nice change of pace for you."

"I'll think about it, but for now, let's just get some sleep."

"Tired?"

"You're exhausting."

McCree chuckled.

The next few days were the best they ever had.


End file.
